Learning to Fall: How Jujitsu, Motherhood, and Faith Taught Me to Bet on Myself

There’s a certain kind of fear that doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t always look like panic or sound like doubt. Sometimes it’s quiet — it shows up as hesitation, procrastination, or perfectionism. It’s that voice that whispers, “You’re not enough.”

For most of my life, I’ve had to fight that voice. Sometimes literally.

The Fight That Built Me

In 2020, fresh off beating stage three cancer, I stepped onto the mats at Black Flag Training Group. I was the only woman in the room — surrounded by men six feet tall and 250 pounds or more. I wasn’t supposed to “fit in.” But I didn’t show up to fit in. I showed up to fight.

Jujitsu taught me what survival really meant. It taught me that I could control my body — even in chaos. That I could trust myself to respond, not freeze. My coaches used to say, “You can’t stop the fall, but you can control the landing.”And that became my life’s mantra.

Because the truth is — the most hurt doesn’t come from the fall itself; it comes from resisting it. The moment I stopped fighting the impact and started responding to it, everything changed.

Training wasn’t just physical. It was spiritual therapy. There were times my PTSD kicked in, when my body would tremble, and I’d dissociate mid-roll. But I learned to breathe, to ground myself, to stay present — to stay in the fight. That discipline didn’t just stay on the mat. It followed me into life.

And one day, it literally saved my life.
When my ex-partner tried to choke me out, my body knew what to do before my mind caught up. I recognized the feeling of losing oxygen, and I knew how long I had. I pretended to go limp, and when he let go, I got free. That’s not a story I share for pity — that’s a testimony of power. The same fight that carried me through cancer and trauma was preparing me for moments I didn’t even know were coming.

When Fear Met Purpose

Then came Lennox.
Becoming his mom shifted everything. Suddenly, my fight wasn’t just mine — it was for him. Every decision I made echoed in his future. I realized I couldn’t raise a son who saw his mother surviving; I wanted him to see me thriving.

I wanted him to see a woman who didn’t settle. A woman who refused to let life — or fear — dictate her destiny. I wanted him to see that faith and fight can coexist.

So when I lost my job while battling hyperemesis during pregnancy, I could’ve panicked. Instead, I recognized it as divine redirection. God had been trying to pull me out of spaces that couldn’t hold me. I’d already learned during chemo that not every job deserves your sacrifice. This time, I finally listened.

The Leap of Faith

Betting on myself meant stepping into full-time entrepreneurship — with no degree, no safety net, and a whole lot of faith. I’d dropped out of college after surviving sexual assault. For a long time, that haunted me. I told myself I wasn’t enough. But God doesn’t call the qualified — He qualifies the called.

I had to unlearn the idea that my worth was tied to credentials.
I had to remember who I was — for real.
Because I wasn’t just talented; I was anointed.

I’d been helping other people build successful businesses while hiding behind my own fear. I was inspiring others to take leaps I hadn’t yet taken. But God wouldn’t let me stay small. The longer I resisted, the heavier my spirit became.

When I finally took the leap, every single bill got paid through the work of my hands — the same hands that once trembled in fear now built brands, systems, and lives for others. My sickness didn’t stop my purpose. My schedule became my own. I had the freedom to be present, to build a legacy, and to prepare for motherhood on my terms.

My future no longer belonged to a corporation or a clock. It belonged to God — and the work was up to me.

Learning to Fall Forward

What Jujitsu taught me — and what life confirmed — is that falling isn’t failure. The fall is where you learn control, awareness, and strategy. It’s where you meet the version of yourself that doesn’t quit.

I used to be scared of the fall. Now, I embrace it.
Because when you know the ground is coming, you can prepare for it — and rise faster than before.

The Call

If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: fear doesn’t disappear, but faith grows louder. You will never feel “ready.” You just have to start — scared, unqualified, and imperfect — and trust that God will meet you in motion.

So to whoever’s reading this — the dreamer, the fighter, the mama, the survivor — stop resisting the fall. Let it teach you. Let it refine you. And when it’s time, get up, fix your crown, and fight again.

Because the greatest version of you is waiting on the other side of the fight.
And I promise — she’s worth meeting.